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Next evening shone the waxing moon
The deer upon the grassy mead
But ere that crescent moon was old,
By night the red men came,
Now woods have overgrown the mead,
And hid the cliffs from sight; There shrieks the hovering hawk at noon, And prowls the fox at night.
THE WANING MOON.
I'VE watched too late; the morn is near;
Even while your glow is on the cheek,
See where upon the horizon's brim,
Late, in a flood of tender light,
A softer sun, that shone all night
And still thou wanest, pallid moon!
Heaven's everlasting watchers soon
Oh, Night's dethroned and crownless queen!
Be shed on those whose eyes have seen
Shine thou for forms that once were bright,
For sages in the mind's eclipse,
For those whose words were spells of might, But falter now on stammering lips!
In thy decaying beam there lies
Full many a grave on hill and plain, Of those who closed their dying eyes In grief that they had lived in vain.
Another night, and thou among
The spheres of heaven shalt cease to shine, All rayless in the glittering throng
Whose lustre late was quenched in thine.
Yet soon a new and tender light
From out thy darkened orb shall beam, And broaden till it shines all night
On glistening dew and glimmering stream.
THE STREAM OF LIFE.
OH silvery streamlet of the fields,
That flowest full and free!
In autumn's chilly showers,
Oh Stream of Life! the violet springs
But one brief summer, on thy path,